


Undisclosed Desires

by devantsun



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Campfires, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Erik, anyway this is super gay, erik doesnt suffer (much) 2019, i was super sad that there weren't many fics in this fandom so Here You Go, veronica imparts the wisdom of salt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-09-15 22:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devantsun/pseuds/devantsun
Summary: The journey of the Luminary was always destined to be hard, but at least there's a campfire every three miles.(alternatively: a tale of two idiots falling in love, told through campfire vignettes)--- no longer on hiatus! ---





	1. The Manglegrove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Eleven adjust to each other.

The journey had been mostly silent; it was clear Eleven was anxious to get back to Cobblestone, and Erik didn't blame him. Anything involving the king's hatred and a legion of soldiers couldn't be good.

It was no excuse to run himself ragged, though. Erik could read the tiredness in the tremble of his hands, the slope of his shoulders. And yet, he keeps on; hand unsteady on his sword, footsteps faltering. Erik's frowning, watching him. He supposes now's as good a time as ever to interfere. 

"Hey," Erik says, reaching out to snag Eleven's sleeve. Eleven looks back at him - there's a quiet urgency in his eyes, restless and uneasy. Erik's grip firms. "Let's settle down for the night. Get some sleep." _You look like you need it,_ he doesn't say.

Eleven blinks, tense. There's something in Erik's gaze that makes him give in, though, and his shoulders slump slightly. Erik bites his lip.

They clear out the next abandoned campsite they find. Erik's always been a little weary of the whole _the-holy-statue-will-protect-you-from-big-six-foot-monsters_ thing, so he settles down with his knife in hand. It's a good thing he's a light sleeper; it'd been inconvenient during his lengthy prison stay, with the many screams and shouts of inmates begging to be let out, but it'd saved his ass many a time on the streets. Erik hopes it will now, if some _thing_ decides to try and consume him in his sleep.

To think he'd been in prison only a few short days ago. Erik can't help but laugh a bit, a dry chuckle escaping his lips.

"What is it?" Eleven's voice is quiet. Erik can count on one hand the number of times he's spoken; he pauses for a moment, hesitant, as if replying will scare Eleven away.

"I was just thinkin'," Erik confesses. "Weird - that I was in prison just yesterday, feels like."

"You're missing out on the free food and board," Eleven says, startling him into a laugh. (Hadn't Erik said something similar, when they were nothing but strangers in cells across from each other?) Erik rubs his hand over his eyes, grinning.

"Yeah," says Erik, "Yeah, guess I am." He shares a grin with Eleven. It was hard to feel upset about it.

Falling asleep is a lot easier after that. 

(They might still be adjusting to each other, but it's impossible not to feel at least a little close, given that they'd quite literally jumped off a cliff together.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is short, i'll be updating asap lol. i'll be updating quickly until, say, gondolia, but the rest will be updated as i progress through the game ! 
> 
> i snatched the title from Muse's song, Undisclosed Desires. it's one of my favorite songs haha! you should give it a listen!
> 
> kudos/comments are always appreciated!! you motivate me to continue and i can't thank you enough :)


	2. The Emerald Coast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik helps where he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains spoilers for Cobblestone! also a bit of angst so if that's not your thing i have fluff next chapter :)

They've been around each other long enough that they fall into a practiced ease setting up camp for the night. It's why it's so jarring when Eleven sinks onto the ground, head in hands, and doesn't get up.

They haven't stopped moving since Cobblestone, since Erik first saw smoke curling through the trees and hurried after Eleven's quickening pace. Since Eleven had stood in the burning remains of his hometown, eyes hazy and lost in memories Erik could never reach.

Erik doesn't know what to say, where to start. There is nothing he can voice that will even _begin_ to make up for the loss of Eleven's home, of everything he knows.

So he gathers firewood in his arms. Stirs the soup he'd learned to make from Eleven's amused instruction only a few days ago. Crouches in front of him to push the bowl into his hands, their fingers brushing. Eleven's are cold.

"Eleven," says Erik, and pauses. Because _are you okay_ is not an option; not here, not when Eleven could not possibly be okay. Erik isn't good at fixing people - he's only good at stealing from them.

It's enough, though; Eleven looks up. It isn't surprising that he cries silently, too. His eyes are a brighter blue with tears. Something in Erik sinks. 

He's barely finished setting the soup to the side when Eleven's head lands hard on his shoulder, startling him. "Whoa, hey," Erik shifts under him. When Eleven starts to pull back, no doubt from Erik's initial reaction, Erik tugs him back gently. "No, s'fine. It's alright."

After a long moment, Erik lifts his arms, resting his hands lightly on Eleven's shoulderblades.

Just as hesitantly, Eleven's hands slide to Erik's back.

Erik's never really hugged anyone like this - it's oddly intimate. Of course, he wished the circumstances were different (god, did he wish) but it's...nice.

He isn't sure how much time passes; it feels like the world has slowed around them, with nothing but the soft exchange of breaths between the two of them. He can feel the slight hiccups in Eleven's frame as he sniffles.

Erik closes his eyes, tension bleeding out of his body. It takes longer for Eleven to relax, but he does, eventually.

When Eleven finally lifts his head, arms uncurling and retreating, he just seems tired, eyes sunken. No longer tearing at the seams. 

Erik isn't sure why he does it, but he tucks Eleven's hair behind his ear on the right side before standing up. Eleven's eyes follow him, head tilting. 

"Your soup's getting cold," Erik says. Eleven gives him a grateful smile. It doesn't reach his eyes, but Erik knows he took it as the gentle distraction it was meant to be.

It's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa thanks to everyone who's been reading!  
> kudos/comments greatly appreciated!! you guys inspire me so much :)
> 
> i'll probably be updating monday (?) i'm going to a con this weekend, i'm so excited!


	3. The Hotto Steppe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica joins the fray, while Erik and Eleven grow closer.

Hotto had been...interesting.

Besides the fact that almost everyone seemed to speak in haikus, they'd barely been there twenty minutes before they were on a child hunt. And then somehow it had all led to the latest addition to their traveling group.

Veronica...well, the kid has spunk. Erik has to give her that.

She's the very opposite of Eleven, however. Confrontational; irritable and just plain _loud._  
Spending three hours with her leaves Erik with a headache and a desire to disappear into the Steppes. Maybe kill a few bongo dragons for stress relief. Erik's not particular.

Maybe Erik will have the patience tomorrow, but for now, his goodwill is running thin. What little he has, anyway. When Eleven finally stops, moving to clear a campsite, Erik is overcome with relief.

Veronica, surprisingly, doesn't put up a fight. Perhaps she senses the wisdom of waiting until dawn before delving into some ungodly dungeon. This gives her a few more points in Erik's book. There are only so many people that Erik can make see sense, and Eleven takes most of Erik's energy in that regard. The idiot.

Setting up camp is even quicker with three. Veronica also fusses at them over their 'terrible' cooking and produces some magical spice that makes the soup taste like literal heaven. 

"Where'd you get this stuff?" Erik prods, scraping the sides of his bowl with his spoon. 

"It's just regular salt," Veronica huffs. Her left pigtail swings behind her back when she shifts. "Honestly. Have you two ever heard of seasoning?"

Erik and Eleven exchange mutual looks of confusion.

"Ginger? Cumin? Paprika?" Veronica tries. Erik and Eleven just stare at her blankly. And then, a little desperately - "Pepper?" 

Hesitantly, Erik shakes his head.

Veronica's eyes roll heavenward. It's probably the twentieth time to date. Erik is more than a little concerned that her eyes will just fall out, at this rate.

"Well, whatever. Eleven, could you grab me another bowl?" Erik nudges Eleven's side, pushing his empty bowl into Eleven's hands.

"It is next to me. You've gotten lucky this time," Eleven says with an uncharacteristic wordiness, ladling more soup into Erik's bowl. There's a glint in his eye as he opens his mouth again. "I'm lazy, you see."

"Was- was that a haiku?" Erik wheezes. When Eleven just smiles, Erik loses it. He's not proud of his laugh, (it's a little too loud, a little too boisterous) but Eleven starts giggling too, and it's a cute little thing Erik's never heard before. It just sets Erik off all over again, until he's doubled over, still laughing as his sides ache.

Veronica is eyeing the pair of them with probably the most judgemental look Erik's ever gotten. (And he's been stared down by the Heliodor kitchen cook, a rather intimidating lady.) "I can't believe I joined a team of absolute _weirdos_ ," she says. Erik ignores her.

"You've been saving that all day, haven't you?" Erik snorts, wiping tears from his eyes. 

Eleven just smiles back, a close-lipped smile that's ever so slightly crooked. It takes everything in Erik to bring his eyes off of it.

Then Eleven passes Erik back his bowl, re-filled, and Erik's main focus returns to putting as much soup in his stomach as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do.....do yall like my bad haiku talent ashjdhjh  
> i'm sorry this update was kinda late! if it makes you feel better i have like 3 chapters sketched out, with a lot of the bare stuff laid down, so yeah, i'll be updating a lot quicker soon :)) 
> 
> \- kudos/comments always greatly appreciated !! thank you so much for motivating me to continue!!


	4. South of Gallopolis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is uneasy, in more ways than one.

"I don't like this," Erik tells Eleven, watching the ashes float up from the crackling fire. It's not just the fact that they're helping a cowardly fraud; it's how he itches to flee far, far away from the thousands of eyes in Gallopolis. Their group is still on the run from Hendrik and his men, and taking down some giant monster the 'prince' can't handle isn't exactly keeping their profiles on the down-low. He thinks Eleven forgets that, sometimes.

"None of us do, darling," Sylvando drawls from across the campfire.

And Erik can't say this out loud, because he's _right there_ , but that's another matter altogether. Sylvando.

Serena is easy enough to get along with. She's just genuinely _good_ ; kindhearted, warm. As for Veronica - well, Erik will refuse to admit it to her, but she kind of grew on him. Like an angry little fungus. Erik finds his amusement on long journeys by antagonizing her. 

But Sylvando...Sylvando just rubs Erik the wrong way. They might agree on a few things, like disliking Prince Faris and his methods, but Erik still doesn't trust him one bit. Underneath the showy persona and flair, he's hiding something.

Erik knows that from experience.

A hand graces his shoulder, light and barely there, bringing Erik back to the present. It's Eleven; of course it is. "We'll be out of Gallopolis soon," Eleven reassures him, eyes searching Erik's. "I promise. We just have to do this first."

Erik can only give him an unhappy smile in return. "Yeah, just a fun little beast hunt, right?"

Eleven's thumb presses into Erik's shoulder a little more firmly, tracing a circle. "Just a fun little beast hunt," Eleven echoes, smiling back with a simple sincerity.

Erik has to look away, breath caught in his chest. His eyes fall on Sylvando, who had been oddly silent. Sylvando is staring at them. His expression is uncomfortably knowing. When his eyes meet Erik's, he gives Erik a wink.

" _Goodnight,_ " Erik says pointedly.

"Nighty-night," Sylvando sings, lips curved smugly as he leans back against the ground, legs crossed.

His knees are still in the air. Erik glares. Even the way he sleeps irritates Erik. _How can anyone sleep like that?_

Aggravated, Erik sighs, pushing his hair back from his forehead. Even the weather is against Erik, it feels like. Erik's just not equipped to handle dry heat. He can't understand how the people of Gallopolis voluntarily live there. "This has got to be the hottest place we've visited," Erik complains, tugging at the neckline of his tunic. The fabric is sticking to his chest from sweat. 

Eleven snorts, drawing Erik's attention back to him. And once it's there, Erik can only look incredulously.

"How _aren't_ you dying," Erik says flatly.

Eleven's eyebrows furrow. "Huh?"

Erik's lost for words. He just kind of gestures at all of Eleven; the long purple and brown tunic over the black long-sleeved shirt, with his thick brown trousers and leather boots. At how he's wearing way too many layers for this kind of climate. "Your clothes," Erik finally says, when Eleven just looks at him in steady confusion. "Your clothes, how aren't you hot?"

"Oh," Eleven says. "You said the same thing in the hot springs. In Hotto."

Erik squints at the lack of a straight answer. "Yeah, and I'm still curious here. You hiding a tattoo or somethin'?" 

"Yes," Eleven says seriously. "I have a tramp stamp of Hendrik's face."

"Sorry I asked," Erik replies, grinning.

It's not that he's...on a mission to see Eleven shirtless or something. Honestly. But he kind of is. He just wants to see.

That sounded gay, the more he thought about it.

And...that's his cue to stop thinking. "Well, I'm gonna sleep. You have fun in your three layers of clothing."

"I will," Eleven tells him wryly.

(....Did he really have a tattoo...?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gay thoughts can't catch erik he runs too fast  
> *insert shenanigans like erik spilling soup on eleven to find out if he has a tattoo*  
> \- I LOVE SYLVANDO lmao but i figured erik probably wouldn't like him at first  
> \- IM SORRY IT TOOK LIKE TWO WEEKS TO UPDATE i kind of had the whole thing written and Couldn't Figure Out How To End It hhh im big dumb  
> \- edit: i just realized i forgot to mention serena and veronica are asleep,,,,,,
> 
> \- kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!! thank you for keeping me going :)


	5. North of Gallopolis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a disagreement. More than one, actually, but that's Veronica for you.

After Sylvando's done talking (not that it was much of a talk), Erik crosses his arms, frowning at his sleeping form. "Well, aren't _we_ full of mysteries? What's his deal?"

Serena had practically blurted out their life story, while Sylvando had closed off at the first question, the first mention of disclosing anything. 

(And honestly, what had he even meant by "two boys and girls on an adventure together, how romantic"? And again, _how could he possibly sleep like that?_ Erik really, really wants to know.)

"Perhaps he's on the run, too. We shouldn't pry too much," Serena offers up, ever the optimist. She always saw the good in people. Naive to a fault.

Erik turns his frown to her but doesn't say anything, unwilling to fight the point with her. He can't shake his unease, though; he has warning signs tingling on his skin, and he can't exactly leave it at that. "I just don't trust him," he says, after a pause, finally voicing his concerns. "We should watch our backs."

"You don't trust _anyone_ , Erik," Veronica snorts, halting when Serena gives her a warning look. 

"For good reason," Erik says sharply. His nails dig into his arms, leaving little crescent shapes. "Am I the only one that remembers that we're _on the run_?"

"Erik..." Eleven's voice is quiet. It takes all the heat from Erik; defuses him. Erik exhales, slow. Turns his head to him. 

Eleven hasn't moved. He is still close, and his thighs touch Erik's as his legs dangle off the crate they both sit on. The fire casts flickering shadows on his jaw. His gaze is cool, his body relaxed; everything Erik is not. 

Softer, Erik continues, addressing Eleven this time. "Fine, then. What d'you think?"

He waits for an answer. Eleven's eyes go somewhere far away, like they always do when he deliberates. Absently, his tongue pokes at his lips. "I think..." he sighs. "I think we should be more careful in general, yes. But he's not going to be with us long, so I don't see the point in arguing this now."

Eleven always keeps a level head, unbiased and calm in the face of anything and everything. It's what makes him such a good leader. By some unspoken rule, hardly anyone in their group disagrees with his judgment when he gives it. 

So everyone simply drifts back to the same old habits after that. The small quiet of the clearing, filled only by the crackle of the flames and the familiar cadence of Serena's murmured reading, calms Erik.

And then Serena giggles as she turns a page, and Veronica's laughing too, softer than her usual harsh and sarcastic laugh, and Erik's finally moved to ask the question he's been wondering for days. 

"What are you two reading, anyway?"

"Hm?" Serena blinks up at him. "Oh, couldn't you tell by the cover?"

Erik squints. The letters furl in some strange and intricate script that he can't read from the distance. The illustration is nothing special; a simple depiction of a tree, branches stretching wide across the sky. It's all he can pick out. "Nope."

"Are you serious?" Now Veronica's interested, because she just _loves_ to lord things over Erik's head. "You mean to say you _don't_ recognize this book by the cover?" Disbelieving, she plucks the book from Serena's hands, waving it in the air as if the increased velocity will make Erik aware of what the hell she's talking about.

He narrows his eyes at her. "What's the big deal, huh?"

Serena and Veronica exchange looks, making Erik feel even more out of the loop. He doesn't like it; he looks pleadingly at Eleven, hoping he can explain.

"It's a book of fairy tales," Eleven says.

"Yeah, and probably the most well-known book ever? What rock have you been under?" Veronica interjects.

Serena starts to say something, probably on the verge of delivering a well-deserved lecture, but Erik interrupts because, hey, he can defend himself.

"Wasn't exactly reading books as a kid," Erik huffs.

"I _knew_ you were as dumb as you looked," Veronica says.

Erik raises a brow, smiling despite himself. "Look who's talking, kid."

"How many times do I have to say it to get it into your _thick_ skull? I'm _not_ a kid!"

"Yeah," Erik shrugs. "You just, y'know. Look like one and act like one."

"At least _I_ -" Serena's hand lands on Veronica's mouth, silencing the oncoming tirade to angry muffled noises. "Are you two quite finished, then?" she says, irritation in the lines of her face.

Eleven is silently shaking with laughter beside Erik, and Erik grins, knocking his shoulder. Eleven looks up at him, cheeks all flushed with red and amusement in his eyes. Erik can't tear his eyes away. "Sure. Sorry, Serena." (He's not, really, but he'd much rather be on her good side, and she _does_ deserve better.)

Serena sighs and lifts her hand from Veronica's mouth.

"Idiot," Veronica mutters mulishly.

For once, Erik lets her have the last word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was so short ,,, on the bright side!! i have the next chapter all written so i'll update super duper soon! again, i just kinda had a problem with ending this one..  
> \- i Personally want to know what exactly serena and veronica are reading like. how is one book lasting them this long. please square enix what are they reading  
> \- i've kind of read a few spoilers for erik's past on accident, but since i've tried to avoid all spoilers in general (i've gotten to that one inland place with the girl academy for mini medals hhgh) i don't know his past well enough to insert it into these little chapters, and i'd actually prefer to keep this fic spoiler free by chapter. like no endgame references in chapter 3, etc. so yeah that's my thought process 
> 
> \- kudos and comments are appreciated very much !!! you motivate me and just aaa thank you!!


	6. Laguna di Gondolia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is missing from the campsite. Eleven goes to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i switched this one to Eleven's POV for the purpose of this chapter!

It’s not often that Eleven finds himself unaware of where Erik is. Erik is a constant, always a reliable warmth by his side with dry retorts and easy smiles. They have become something interchangeable, indistinguishable, Erik and Eleven, Eleven and Erik. Eleven is lost in him, feelings too _loud_ and bursting from his chest, and he thinks anyone could see it. Perhaps that is the reason Sylvando seems to know, instantly, why Eleven is scanning the clearing when he finally retreats from the forge for the night.

“Looking for Erik?” Sylvando asks, a smile in his voice.

Eleven nods.

“He said something about a tree, darling. I haven’t the slightest what he meant.”

Eleven understands, then. Erik isn’t _predictable_ , per se, but Eleven has noticed this particular habit of his. He gives Sylvando a grateful smile and sets off.

It’s easy to find him; the trees have shed their leaves in the brisk cold of winter, and Erik’s left leg dangles off the edge of a tree’s limb. He is carefully ensconced in the gnarled branches of a towering tree. His right knee sticks up, foot propped against the length of the branch, and his back rests against the trunk.

Eleven starts the climb.

He doesn’t possess nearly as much grace as Erik, but he has been climbing trees from childhood, from the first time he’d scurried up to pluck Gemma’s scarf from the snag of a tree arcing impossibly high above them. The reminder of Gemma, _Cobblestone_ , makes his breath catch in his lungs, and he hesitates, arms still extending for the next branch.

Erik is watching his progress, eyes unfairly amused. “Need help?” he calls down, and Eleven thinks he can see his lips twitch a bit from twenty feet down.

Eleven shakes his head firmly, pulling himself up resolutely. He keeps his step light, steady where branches creak ominously. In a matter of minutes, he has reached Erik, and Erik shifts to the side to let him on.

Erik’s eyes are fond when they find Eleven’s. His eyes don’t linger long- they never do, with Erik’s eternal wariness. They usually flick to check their surroundings again and again for danger; tonight, they go back to the sky.

Eleven follows his gaze. Stars burst through the inky black of the night; there are hundreds, spilling out in rivers on the canvas of the sky. The moon hangs heavy, casting a soft brilliance to the earth below. Eleven is transfixed by the sheer vastness of it all.

Gradually, his eyes gravitate back to Erik. He is ethereal, moonlight carving shadows in his hair and deep planes in the long sweep of his shoulders. His posture is relaxed, at ease; he seems to fit, here, like he was made to be in the night staring up at constellations.

Erik must sense Eleven looking at him because he turns back. There’s a rare smile on his face, soft and gentle. The one Eleven can only bring out once in a blue moon.

Erik has many smiles- amused, disbelieving, wry and sarcastic, tight and irritated. This is Eleven’s favorite.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Erik says. His teeth glint in the light.

Eleven nods, smiling back.

There is a moment of quiet, while Erik contemplates the sky again. Eleven knows there is something on Erik’s mind, and he waits, patient. It does not take long.

“I never learned to appreciate it, y’know,” Erik finally says. When he speaks, his breath swirls in clouds from the chill of winter. “‘Till I was in prison for so long. Being underground like that...you start appreciating it, I think. I could never tell if it was day or night...I could only guess when the guards came by with food. But now I can see the sky again. Sunsets, the stars.” 

Another piece of the puzzle that is Erik slots into place. Eleven likes it; likes knowing more things about Erik. He wants to know everything - to waste away in the small little details, like how his favorite color is blue and how he can’t sleep on his stomach. 

“Look, it’s your star,” Erik says dryly, interrupting Eleven’s thoughts. Eleven’s eyes follow his pointed finger to the Luminary’s star. 

“You better not turn into a star on me,” Erik threatens, suddenly. 

Startled, Eleven’s mouth twitches in an aborted smile. “I imagine the view is quite nice from up there.”

“Don’t you dare, pal,” Erik insists, poking him in the chest with a finger. “No turning into stars on my watch.”

Erik’s finger is a light pressure on the fabric of his shirt. Eleven holds up his hands in surrender, cheeks pinking. “Promise.”

“Good.” Erik grins lazily. “You’re better off down here, y’know...saving the world or whatever.”

Eleven smiles. “Or whatever.”

They’re both still smiling as they look back to the Luminary’s star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this chapter: so how many cheesy cliches am i gonna fit in this one huh  
> \- i'll try n keep updating every 3 weeks or so at the absolute Least (i'm trying to update more often than that, swear, i'm just putting a hard limit on things :) ) school is killing me thanks for your patience  
> \- eleven is Aware (tm) of his feelings while erik is still in denial bc hes big insecure  
> \- bonus : “We should probably get back. I think Veronica misses me,” Erik says.  
> “I don’t think so,” laughs Eleven, shifting to make his way down.  
> “No,” Erik agrees, following. He moves lithely, hands sure. “The little twat.”
> 
> \- kudos and comments are always the light of my day! thanks for keeping me going with this fic :)
> 
> _ EDIT: i'm really struggling with my mental health right now. i'm going on hiatus. i promise i won't abandon this fic but i need to put myself first


	7. Grotta della Fonte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's emotional repression levels up.

This place feels like, without doubt, the shadiest location they have set up camp at thus far. They're halfway into the grotto when Eleven evidently decides that the damp, mossy clearing with a dilapidated angel statue smack in the middle of hordes of monsters is the perfect place to sleep. 

Everyone just rolls with it.

Sylvando, being Sylvando, rolls a little too much into it. He's brought out his latest purchase, an old banjo with cheerily chipped red paint, and is currently tuning it (or some kind of process that passes for tuning that involves a lot of dissonant wailing strings). Erik swears that the monsters hanging just outside of reach of the angel's protection are becoming more murderous by the minute, if it was possible.

And no one seems bothered by it. Except for Erik. And, of course, the monsters.

"Will you please stop," Erik groans after a few minutes of this. 

Sylvando twangs a string. "What was that, darling?" He knows exactly what he's doing.

Erik sighs and gives up, sourly hoping that the magical protection offered by the angel statue doesn't have an expiration date. The perfect outlet for his irritation, Veronica, is currently bent over a stack of damp wood that unpromisingly resembles a campfire.

"Hey, Veronica," Erik starts. "How's-"

"-If you finish that sentence with 'the weather down there', I will not hesitate to strangle you," she replies primly, prodding at the wood.

Erik weighs his luck, and finds it agreeable. "Can you even reach my neck?"

He dodges the stick she throws at him with well-practiced ease. "Easy there, kid. Could hurt someone with that."

"Yes, honestly, Veronica, what if you had hit Eleven?" Serena scolds, apparently unconcerned for Erik's safety and wellbeing. She ignores Erik's affronted look.

"Sorry, Eleven," Veronica says, though she seems more preoccupied fiddling with the wet kindling.

Eleven gives her a beatific smile, legs swinging casually off the crate. He hadn't so much as startled at the sudden spiky projectile, likely because the air was always full of projectiles with Veronica and Erik in close proximity all the time.

"Renegade thief," Sylvando sings, plucking at the banjo in a despairing minor chord (made even more so by it still lacking tune). "A fool. Someday the mage will not miss."

"I did not _miss_ ," huffs Veronica. She makes a triumphant sound when the fire finally allows her spark to grow, and sits back on her heels, looking overly pleased with herself.

Apparently, everyone has turned against Erik. He sighs and returns to Eleven, flopping down with his back to the side of the crate. He regrets it instantly, as the cold dampness of the ground begins to seep into the seat of his trousers, but he is nothing if not stubborn, so he stays.

Sulking is not the right word for it. He is tactfully retreating. After all, it _is_ Veronica and Serena's turn to make dinner, and he wouldn't put it past them to put some sort of ungodly hot spice in his bowl as revenge. He's not sulking.

"Are they being mean to you?" Eleven says, tone heavy with condescension and a touch of amusement.

"You can be a right bastard sometimes," says Erik.

He continues to stare sullenly at Sylvando's banjo, but he hears the smile in Eleven's voice. "Mhmm, and you have a leaf in your hair."

"Huh? Where?" Erik lifts his hands to check, but is apparently far off the mark, because Eleven bats them away with a little laugh. 

"I've got it," Eleven says, so Erik obligingly sits still. His fingers brush Erik's scalp lightly. It's strange, almost ticklish, but they retreat as quickly as they came, with a maple leaf in tow. 

"S'weird," Erik says, squinting at it. "Don't think there's a maple tree in this cave."

Eleven laughs gently. "No, I don't think so either. I wonder what else you've got hiding in there."

"Why don't you find out?" Erik says, half-joking. The words have left his mouth before he can take them back, and he presses his lips together belatedly, tipping his head back to survey Eleven's reaction. 

It's not like he can really tell the expression Eleven's making with Eleven's face being upside-down from his vantage point, he realizes after the action.

Eleven seems to take his words at face value, though, and his hands wander back to Erik's hair. Erik tries not to shiver when Eleven's fingernails accidentally scrape lightly at his scalp. "Sorry," Eleven says.

Sylvando is still fussing with his banjo, though it sounds like it's been tuned by now. He's singing quietly, words lilting prettily in a language Erik doesn't recognize. Erik can't quite muster the will to let it bother him. 

"It's all right," says Erik after a moment. He clears his throat.

Eleven hums a little as his hands work through Erik's hair, parting it layer by layer with a gentleness Erik has come to expect from him. It's...actually very nice. The light pressure and slightness of his fingers is anything but unpleasant, and Erik finds himself relaxing further into it. He hasn't been touched like this - with such familiarity and ease- in a while; hasn't been able to let his guard down around anyone for so long, until Eleven had been thrown into his life. The intimacy of it all is a little overwhelming, but Erik doesn't think he could bear for it to end.

And then, it does. Erik opens his eyes, realizing that at some point he had closed them. He tries not to feel embarrassed about it, and fails.

"I don't think you've got anything else in there," Eleven says with a smile.

It occurs to Erik that he has absolutely nothing to say in reply. He's feeling oddly vulnerable, now, and his words have left him. They do not return, even as he works his jaw and racks his brains with no small amount of desperation.

"That's..." Erik attempts. He cannot _think_. "Ah, good. Then," he finishes, lamely, after a pause so long that Erik blinks at him with faint concern.

"Erik," begins Eleven. He is looking down at Erik, lashes long and low, something unreadable in his expression that Erik does not think he could interpret even if it were not upside down. Erik suddenly feels uncomfortable, like he'd made it awkward between them, hadn't he, with his stupid reaction to something so innocent, and Eleven was far too kind to tell him outright (he'd be gentle, still, painfully so). So Erik springs to his feet, for both their sakes. 

"I'm going to go help them with the soup," Erik informs Eleven. 

"Oh. Okay," Eleven says, a touch absently. His shoulders slump- probably out of relief. 

Erik bites his lip and beats a hasty retreat. He avoids Eleven for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's me. i am the april fool.  
> \- i don't know if anyone's even reading this anymore but by god will i finish this fic  
> \- due to my mental health literally being on fire somewhere to the left i will not have a consistent uploading schedule but if it helps anyone to know, i have the next two chapters drafted at the very least. don't worry ;)  
> \- this turned out uhhh a little angsty things get better in the next chap i promise :) :')  
> \- this was the longest chapter can i get a wahoo
> 
> \- kudos and comments give me the will to live and i thank you


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